


More Missing Scenes

by fadewithfury (foxmoon)



Category: Broadchurch, Secret Diary of a Call Girl (TV)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Missing Scene, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-04
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-09-28 07:46:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10080032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxmoon/pseuds/fadewithfury
Summary: Short missing scenes from Broadchurch series 3 that depict Hannah as being part of the unfolding story. Inspired by, but not necessarily a continuation of, the Missing Scenes that @lostinfic did for series 2.





	1. Episode 1

**Author's Note:**

> I kept this nebulous as far as whether Hannah has moved in or if she’s on an extended visit. The more I know about why/when/how of Hardy returning to Broadchurch, the more details I can fill in about that. If the plot of the show progresses in a manner that makes it difficult to fit her in, I will probably stop writing them.

Hannah finishes cleaning up supper dishes in the kitchen—three plates, three cups, three bowls. Grilled cheese sandwiches, beans, and salad. Daisy makes a decent meal when she’s not too wrapped up in homework or out with her mates. It’s a peculiar feeling to sit for supper with Alec and his daughter, but not a bad one. They get on well enough.

Hannah puts the kettle on and leans against the counter as she waits for it to boil. The window nearby affords a serene view that lulls her into a trance. Gentle, moonlit waves lap against the shore. Beautiful as any twilit cityscape, but lonelier in a way. She looks instead toward Alec.

He sits at his desk in the lounge with the glow of his laptop reflected on his glasses. It’s late, and he’s got almost every light in the house shining to keep him awake. He checks his mobile for texts as if one might’ve snuck in without him noticing.

The kettle’s ready, so she prepares his tea. She places the steaming mug before him, and kisses the top of his head. “I know you can’t talk about it, but, you all right?”

His eyes briefly close, and he relaxes at her touch. “A wee better now. Thanks.” He pulls the mug toward himself, and holds it while it steeps.

He’s been overwrought ever since he arrived home after spending the better part of two days in the initial stages of a new investigation. And it’s grim. One that has him riveted on details and muttering to himself. She watches him refresh his email a few times in a row, and the tension returns to his posture. He’s waiting for something important.

“Think I’ll turn in,” she says through a yawn.

“Be there in a bit. Soon as I get the, erm, results.”

Hannah heads to the bedroom and settles under the duvet with a book. She barely reads a paragraph before her eyes drift shut.

Commotion from the lounge—the door opening, Alec’s voice—rouses her. It’s Ellie. Sounds of him stepping outside follow, and she surmises they’re discussing the case. Daisy said he did that before with her mum so she couldn’t hear the details of an investigation, but she’d find ways to eavesdrop regardless.

After a few minutes, Alec re-enters, and locks the lounge door. One by one, the lights go out. She hears the clicks of locks and latches as he goes. He visits Daisy’s room first as he always does, pauses by the doorway to see that she’s asleep, then he enters their room.

Hannah dozes as he washes up in the ensuite. He changes into his sleepwear quietly, but seems to be unaware of his many sighs. When he sits on his side of the bed, she turns toward him.

“Hi,” she says.

He looks down at her. Even in the darkness, she can see the worry in his face. “Sorry for waking you.” His voice is so gentle, but there’s a subtle, contradicting relief in his tone that makes her chest tighten.

“Come here,” she says, reaching for him.

He slides under the duvet and pulls her close without hesitation, and she melts into the harbor of his arms. Funny how his lanky frame can bestow this sensation like she’s behind a fortified castle wall when he thinks her safety is at risk. She burrows into his chest and rubs his back. He’ll tell her what it is eventually.

“Please don’t go out alone for a time,” he says after a lingering press of his lips just above her ear.

His voice rumbles in a way that stirs warmth in her veins. Mingled with his strong embrace and the kiss–she closes her eyes and tries to center herself.

“That bad?”

“Mm.” He squeezes her gently.

“Does Daisy know?”

“No details, but I told her the same. And the worst of it’s confirmed.” He sighs and a bit of the tension creeps back into his neck. She kisses him there, and along his shoulder, then pulls away so they’re face-to-face.

She meets his gaze, and brushes his fringe to the side. “Any suspects?”

“We’re working on a list.”

“Short list, I hope.”

He snorts. “No. I probably won’t be around much for a little while.”

“Only a little while? That sounds optimistic.”

He smiles a bit. “See what you’ve done to me.”

Hannah’s first inclination is to tease him with a few dirty words and a nice grope, but she restrains herself. He’s exhausted, and has a lot of work ahead of him from the sound of it. She turns in his arms so that her back is flush against his chest, and pulls his arm over her.

“Let’s get some sleep then. You’ll need your energy.”

He snuggles close, wedges his knee between her legs, and settles with his arm under the pillow. Sleep claims them swiftly, and when morning arrives, his protective embrace gives way to something more needy. Hannah awakens to his hand sliding over her hip. He’s hard against her bum, and his nose nuzzles just behind her ear.

“Sorry for waking you,” he says.

“No you’re not.” Hannah wiggles her bum.

He groans, and his fingers press into her hip. “Gotta go in a minute. Don’t have time.”

That’s code for no time to reciprocate. “It’s okay.” She rolls slightly, feels his cock nudge right where she’s already slick for him. He curses under his breath and rocks forward. This kind of reassurance is what she does best.


	2. Episode 2

Hardy pauses on the porch outside of his home. His throat constricts as guilt resurfaces. The glow from lamps and the telly illuminates two people within. People he loves; people whose safety may be at a prolonged risk due to his self-destructive impatience. All afternoon he told himself that he’ll get home early to make up for missing lunch with Daisy. That he’ll cook supper, that he’ll clean it up, and help her with her homework. She sits at the table, her schoolbooks open and her head bowed over her mobile. Errant thoughts intrude his mind: _she’s texting Tess, telling her how nothing’s changed, how dad never has time for her, that she made a mistake and wants to leave_.

Hannah stands from the computer desk to head to the kitchen, but stops and inspects the door. She startles, but recovers when she recognises him. Her hair, which she had recently dyed auburn, is pulled back in a high ponytail, and she’d already changed into leggings and a huge t-shirt. She smiles and heads his way.

His heart dives into his stomach. and he feels nervous as the day he first met her. She shouldn’t be so happy to see him, and so bloody adorable at the same time, when all he’s done all day is fail everyone.  

She opens the door and cocks her head to the side. “Jesus, you gave me a fright! Planning on sleeping out here?”

“Sorry. Sorry I’m late.”

She holds the door for him to enter, and he does so. Daisy looks up from her mobile and gives him a half-arsed smile.

“Hey.”

Hardy reaches Daisy and kisses the top of her head. “I’m sorry, darling. I forgot. The day got away from me. Hannah keeps telling me to set up alerts on my bloody mobile.”

She shrugs. “Anyway, don’t want to be seen at school with my dad.”

He frowns. “I--”

“Joking! We saw the news. I get it. Sorry for being weird.”

Hardy exchanges a glance with Hannah, then looks towards the television put on mute as the top news stories of the day recycle.

“I know police don’t get many resources to deal with a crime like this,” Hannah says, staring absently at the telly. “Lucky if police help at all.”

“Yeah, that’s horseshit.” Daisy packs up her homework, and stands with a stretch. “So I’ll just wait till this creep’s arrested and we can have lunch.”

The relief that Hardy feels hearing his daughter’s words of understanding makes his eyes prickle. He sniffs and nods, holding back the emotions--and the urge to scold her for swearing.

“Perfect.”

Daisy kisses his cheek, and heads to her room for the evening.

Hannah turns off the lamps and bites her nails. The newscaster on the telly rounds back to the news of the rape.  “Is anyone staying with her?”

Hardy knows she’s referring to Trish. “Her daughter’s back in town. House is secure.”

Hannah exhales. “I made mac and cheese, hungry? I can heat it up for you.”

“I’m set. Miller got sandwiches for the team.” He grabs her by the waist and pulls her close. “Though, wouldn’t mind, ehm, dessert.”

She lifts an eyebrow and circles her arms around his shoulders. “Yeah?”

“Mmm.”

He dips in, and relishes that grin she flashes just before he kisses her. Her body curves into the embrace so that they’re flush together. That, along with her little eager hum, never fails to send a jolt straight down to his groin. She takes a few steps backwards, and he follows. Her hand leaves him momentarily to turn off the telly, then wraps around his tie. Their lips part with a wet smack.

“Bedroom,” she says, eyes riveted on his lips. She gives his tie a good yank.

His throat goes dry. He follows her, no longer weary or consumed with the day’s failures. Though if he lingers long enough in his thoughts he’ll start to worry about whether she enjoys staying here with him.

They reach the bedroom before his mind can fall down that well. And then, perhaps to regain control of his fickle mood, he tips her back so she lands on the bed with a bounce. She gasps, but recovers with a giggle. He closes and locks the door as he pulls the knot of his tie loose with one hand.

She makes an attempt to unbuckle his belt, but he gently captures her hands and guides her back to the bed.

“Don’t worry about me,” he says, kneeling down at the foot of the bed.

Hannah goes limp. Her pupils are huge, and her cheeks are flushed, made brighter by that redder hue in her hair. He pulls her hips toward him, and her legs fall open.

“I feel bad about this morning,” he mumbles as he lowers his face to her heat. He hasn’t even pulled down her leggings yet, but she whimpers all the same.

“I wasn’t worried about it. You always find time to reciprocate.”

He looks at her as he reaches up to hook his fingers over the hem of her leggings. He never really knows what to say. He’s not all that dashing or quick-witted. Instead, he nuzzles her between her legs, and breathes in, which only manages to make him regret telling her not to worry about his needs. He adjusts his trousers, then yanks down her clothing.

  
She bites her lip and flops back with a smile. “All day long I was hoping you’d do this.”


	3. Episode 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for mentions of rape as it relates to the case.  
> Thanks to lostinfic for the beta. <3

Hannah tucks her chin into the warmth of her jacket. She leans on the rail to catch her breath and watches the waves churn from a distant storm. They hit the sea wall below, filling the air with a fine, salty mist. She pats her hair to tame the flyaways, but the wind blows in every direction at once, so she gives up. What she wouldn’t give for a fag right about now.

A woman with dark hair jogs past and stops to speak to a man that stood nearby. Hannah steals a discreet glance—it’s the Latimers. Alec mentioned the previous case, but she didn’t have faces to put with names until an internet search revealed all she needed to know about this quaint, seaside town. She re-inserts her earbuds and resumes her morning jog.

Alec is hard at work at the kitchen table when she arrives home. He doesn’t return her greeting as she removes her trainers and grabs a bottle of water from the fridge. She hears movement, and he appears at the entrance to the kitchen.

“D’you know anything about these boys Daisy’s been hanging ‘round?”

“No.”

“Of course you don’t.” He turns to go.

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, sorry. I’ve got to go. When she comes home from school, tell her I said to stay here. No more going out alone with-with _the boys_ after dark.”

Hannah’s brow furrows. “What’s all this about? Is it the case?”

He exaggerates a sigh so she knows he’s impatient with her. She leans on the threshold, summoning the patience he lacks.

“A group of smug little—” he pauses, choosing his words, “boys stopped by earlier looking for her. Shouldn’t they be in school? Shouldn’t they know she’s in school? I don’t like it.”

She bites her fingernail. “Is there anything I can do?”

“No.” He slides on his mac jacket, and leaves.

Hannah flinches as the door smacks the frame. Relief settles in first—she doesn’t necessarily want to intervene where Daisy’s concerned. But, unease follows. She’s no stranger to Alec’s quips when work is on his mind, and yet it leaves her more on edge than it has ever done so before.

///

Daisy arrives home in the afternoon with her mobile at her ear. Hannah turns to greet her, but she gets nothing but a brief glance from the girl as she heads to her room. Chances are high that she wasn’t even talking to anyone.

Hannah brushes it off for now. The cursor blinks after the last sentence she wrote like a finger snapping for her attention. Her publisher expects a final draft by Monday, and she’s only halfway through revisions. After a few minutes, Daisy emerges and heads to the door.

“Hey,” Hannah says, standing. “Daisy?”

“Hi.”

“Your dad said to wait here, maybe give him a ring?”

“Wait here for what?”

Hannah holds up her hands. “You’ll have to ask him.”

“I gotta go.” She pushes open the door.

“Where are you going?”

“I’ll phone him, don’t worry.”

“Listen, I can’t force you to stay but you saw the news. You know what your dad’s dealing with, so just do what he says for a few days, okay? He said it’s best if you wait here.”

Daisy looks up with a sigh. “I’ll be fine, they’re mates. I’ll be back before dark.”

“You can’t know that. You just can’t.”

“Is that why you’re just sitting around here all day doing nothing?” Daisy snaps.

Hannah is taken aback. She stammers, giving her laptop a helpless glance. “I’m not ‘doing nothing.’ Is that what you think?”

“Just ‘cause you’re shaggin’ him don’t make you my mum.” With that, Daisy pulls the door open and breezes through it, letting it go forcefully behind her. It slaps the frame a few times before settling ajar.

Hannah squeezes her eyes shut and lets out a shaky exhale. Blimey, she really isn’t cut out for this. She grabs her mobile and phones Alec. He doesn’t answer.  She begins to type out a text, but hesitates, second-guessing herself. Daisy said she’d phone him, should she trust that? Would it only serve to justify Daisy’s weird behaviour towards her? Her fingers twitch and she searches her purse for a pack of cigarettes that aren’t there, because she quit six months ago. _Fuck_. No wonder her nails are bitten to the quick.

///

Night settles over the town. Hannah sits alone on the porch to watch the ships glide in and out of the harbour, a mug of tea warming her fingers. Daisy did phone Alec. She’d gone out to meet a study group at the library, which is where Hannah picked her up when she finished. They ate separately, and barely spoke. Daisy put the kettle on before she disappeared into her room for the night, and Hannah took it as a kind of peace offering.

Alec arrives home just as Hannah felt cold enough to head inside. He stops on the porch when he sees her and quirks his brow. “Why the hell’re you out here?”

Hannah shrugs. “It’s peaceful.”

“Lock up when you come in.”

“Daisy knows we’re together.”

Hardy pauses with his hand on the door. “Why wouldn’t she?”

“I thought you told her I’d just be a housemate.”

He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Can we not do this right now?”

“Do what? I’m just asking a question.”

“We talked about this already. I said I think it’d be best if she knew rather than keep secrets from her like… like her mother had.”

“Oh, didn’t realise you’d already told her.” Hannah returns her attention to the sea.

“I don’t need your permission do I?”

Hannah bristles. “That’s not what I mean.”

“Are you smoking again?” He cranes his neck to search the ground. Presumably for snuffed cigarettes.

“No! Though lately I’m highly fucking tempted.”

He puts his hands on his hips. “Is that so?”

“Yeah. That’s so.” She looks away as she fights tears. “I’m here alone all day.” There’s more she wants to say, but it sticks in the back of her throat.

He falls silent, his hands slip from his hips. He loosens his tie and rubs the back of his head, then finally he speaks. “Come inside. It’s cold out. We can, ehm… talk in bed. Please?” he says in that gentle tone he must know lowers her guard. But she’s not having it.

“In a minute.”

“Okay.” But he just stands there. Waves break on the shore a few times, and he then sits next to her hesitantly. “I’m sorry.”

Hannah rolls her eyes and shifts away from him. His callous words replay in her mind as she fidgets with the empty tea mug.

“This case, it—it’s eating at me. We’ve gone ‘round town and everyone we question, every man we question.” He sighs and gazes off to the sea. “They don’t convince me they couldn’t have done it. They have alibis. Might not’ve done it this time, but—d’you know what I mean?”

Hannah nods. Tears slip from her eyes, and though the urge to fold into him is strong, she resists.

“I worry about Miller, about Daisy, about every woman I pass on the street. I worry about you.”

She scoffs.

“What?”

“Just... shut up for a second. You’re making it hard for me to stay upset at you.”

Alec looks at her. “Pardon?”

“You were a bit of an ass this morning, but I let it go ‘cos I know you’re dealing with a lot of shit. But! Then Daisy said I’m just some layabout that shags her dad. I’m not? I work! I’ve overcome so much.” Jesus Christ, she didn’t realise how much Daisy’s words had hurt her. “I don’t just lie around!”

“I know.”

“Do you? ‘Cos then you come home and as soon as you see me it’s like, well I’ll just take all of my shit out on her!” She makes a mocking face, and sets down the teacup so she can gesture accordingly. “She won’t care, she’s just sitting out here doing nothing! Taking a disgusting fag break!”

The anger remains right in her chest where her heart pounds so loud she’s sure he can hear it. She wants to storm back inside and let the bloody door slam on him like it has slammed on her twice today. But she looks at him rather than flee, desperate for compassion and understanding. Hot tears fill her eyes again, and she gives a noisy sniffle.

Hardy kept his gaze on the marram grass beyond the porch as she ranted, but then meets her eyes when she’s done. “You’re right. I’ve been a boor. I’m sorry.”

Hannah exhales, the anger ebbing, albeit slow like the tide. “That won’t be enough, I hope you know.”

Deep dimples have formed in his cheeks. His brows pull together and he swallows. Whatever was on his mind, he keeps to himself. Hannah leans against him, turns her nose to his shoulder. His arm winds around her immediately to pull her close.

“I love you,” she says, her voice breaking.

Alec kisses the top of her head, and rests his cheek there. After a steadying inhale, he kisses her head again. “I love you, too.”

She closes her eyes. His hand slides over to grasp hers. Her heartbeat slows to match the soft, restful rhythm of the surf.


	4. Episode 4, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prior to s3 of Broadchurch. This is a rewrite of the infamous date that sets it in a different point in time. Part 2 will have the replacement scene, coming later this week. Spoilers for s3.

_One year, five months ago_

Sandbrook isn’t home. Not anymore. He realises this early on when Tess lays out the ground rules. _You may stay in the house for two weeks, but by the end I expect you to’ve found your own place. We’ll share custody, so get a flat with two bedrooms. I’m off with Dave, but that doesn’t mean I’m interested in starting over with you. Unless you want a shag now and again._

Up until those words fall from her lips, he thinks he still cares for her, but they don’t sting like they should. They just happen. He doesn’t love her anymore, and it feels like freedom. Yet this place is Daisy’s home. It’s all she’s ever known, so he’ll redefine the word for her sake. Home is with his daughter. Home is a person, not a place. He’s fine with that adage for now.

“Have you been on any dates, dad?” Daisy asks. She sits across from him at the two-person table in the kitchenette.

He pauses with his fork halfway to his mouth. “Pardon? Is that something you really want to know?”

“Yeah, mum’s been on loads of dates. She says she’s meeting friends, but I’m not stupid. Have you?”

“Ehm… no. No, I haven’t got time for that.”

“But if you had the time—”

“Daisy, this is not the sort of conversation—”

“You’re miserable. Maybe it’ll help.” She smiles when he slumps in defeat. “I’ve already made a profile for you, look.” She flashes her mobile.

Hardy blanches and drops his fork. “You did what?”

“Look, you’ve even got a few matches.”

“No, Daisy, delete it right now.” He reaches for her phone, feeling like the floor has just fallen away. “Please, for god’s sake.”

“Couple of blokes, too.”

“What? What the hell did you write about me? Hand it over.”

She sighs with a cheeky grin, and shifts focus to her mobile as she types out a text. Hardy’s mobile buzzes. She’s sent him the login credentials and the name of the app so he can install it himself.

“There you go. I’m deleting it now,” she shows him as evidence. “Have a go with it, and if you still don’t like it just delete it yourself. Change your passcode first. I got in ‘cos I still know your Facebook one from when I had to set that up for you.”

He groans and looks up to the ceiling helplessly. She definitely inherited her mother’s nerve.

After clearing up supper, he sits at the desk for a bit of work, but his mind returns to the dating app. Daisy has retired to her room, so he takes a deep breath to quell the anxious flutters in his chest. He first seeks out instructions on how to use the bloody thing, too embarrassed to ask Daisy. Then he peruses the profiles of the women who matched whatever parameters Daisy put in for himself before changing anything.

One woman in particular captures his attention. Her friendly eyes hold a hint of exhaustion that he finds particularly relatable. Her nose, wrinkled from her grin, well, it’s cute. She’s blonde, and her long hair falls at an angle over her face. He imagines all the ways he could be happy, and all the ways this would fall apart.

**_Zoe, 34_ **  
_2 kilometers away, active 34 minutes ago_

**_About Zoe  
_ ** _I'm a novelist and if you're good in bed, I might name a character’s distant relative after you. I like honesty and a dry sense of humour. I read a lot, don’t sleep enough, work too much, and there’s a 60% chance I’ll order dessert instead of a meal. Never married; no children. There’s one last thing you need to know about me: In another life, I was a call girl._

His eyebrow quirks, and he almost swipes her away. Her words appealed to him until that last admission, yet now he’s finding ways to discount the rest. He’s never been so consciously aware of his process of elimination as it skirts around that line.

He checks through the other matches and ends up back at Zoe. No contest, she’s the one. He taps the heart and another screen pops up that announces their successful match. It’s the first time he sees the image of himself Daisy had chosen and he recoils.

“No! Augh. God. That one? Really, Daisy...” Now he knows why she was so keen to take his photo the other day.

But what’s done is done. If he understands the app right, that’ll put the ball in her court. If she’s still interested, then she can message him. If not, then they can both move on. He’ll delete the bloody app, because there’s no way in hell he would be able to deal with this sort of thing more than once.

The following morning, he has a message.

_Hello :)_

His stomach drops. Dread churns in his chest, so he avoids even looking at his mobile again until after he’s dressed for work. Daisy is in the kitchen eating cereal when he emerges.

“Daisy, I, ehm… what should I say?” he holds up the mobile displaying the message.

Her face brightens. “Oh my god, you did it! Just say hello back, I mean, it’s not a wedding proposal.”

“Sure. Fine.”

It’s not until midday that he hears from Zoe again. They chat briefly and make plans to meet at a cafe in town that evening. He gets there early to save a table, and refuses to watch the door, as accidentally making eye contact with every person who walks in until she arrives might send him into cardiac arrest.

“Alec?”

He perks up, and their eyes meet. His surroundings blur together in a daze of color and sound as he stands. She’s right there, but his senses have scattered. Her smile is even more incredible in person, and that’s when, mercifully, the rest of the world falls away except for them.

“Yes, hi, Zoe.”

She smiles, but with a bit of a cringe. “Actually, that’s not my real name. I’m a known author, so I use a pseudonym. Sorry. I’m Hannah.”

Hardy shrugs. “Oh, that’s reasonable.”

“Sorry. You’re not put off now, are you? Everything else is real. I promise.” She fidgets with her hair and necklace.

“Ehm, no, no. Hannah. That’s lovely.”

“Thanks. Oh! You’re wearing a suit.” She looks him up and down, her eyebrow arches, but her smile remains.

“I-is that wrong? I wasn’t sure…” he says, still squinting, and now he’s painfully aware that he’s squinting and afraid of making an even more embarrassing facial expression if he changes it now, so he just takes a deep breath.

“No, not at all. You look really nice.”

“Thanks. You do, too. Look lovely. I’ll ah—what do you want?”

She looks toward the menu blackboard and strokes her collarbone as she thinks. She’s wearing a pale yellow blouse that gently drapes her figure, and tight blue jeans. Capped sleeves reveal toned arms, and before he can admire her further she returns her attention to him.

“Iced coffee, a mocha java cake, and oooh the Swedish buns. We can share those.”

“You weren’t kidding were you? About the dessert thing.”

“I’m starving and they’re so good.” She blissfully rolls her eyes for emphasis.

Hardy smiles. “I’ll be right back.”

He returns with their food after a few minutes, and she hums as he places the mocha java cake before her. She’s toying with her hair, and he swallows.

“You look lovely,” he says as he sits. “I mean, I’ve already said that.”

She smiles with a tilt to her head. “Yeah.”

“Sorry, this is--it’s daunting. My daughter made my profile and I—”

She stops with a scoop of cake hovering by her open mouth. “You’ve got kids?”

“One, yes. I’m sorry is--”

“Oh. That wasn’t on there.” Her gaze lowers to the table.

“It wasn’t? Shit. S-sorry. She set it up and I didn’t realise--” he straightens his salad plate and fidgets with his mug of tea, not really partaking of either. What else had Daisy left off?

“It’s fine.” Her eyes finally meet his again. “Did she pick me?”

“No. I did, because, eh…as I’ve said.” He sips his tea to shut himself up.

“I don’t mind hearing it again,” she teases. “But only one more time, ‘cos then it gets a bit weird.”

Hardy smiles. She’s smiling at him too, and he leans on his arms. “You’re not here permanently then?”

“No, my publisher sent me here for setting research. Just a fortnight and I’ll head back to London.”

“What’re you writing about?”

“I write erotic crime fiction, and there’s this scandalous murder case they’re keen on—”

Hardy chokes on his tea. “S-scandalous...murder case? What case?”

“It’s a double homicide. A child and her older cousin. Lots of salacious details surrounding the suspects that work perfectly for… what?”

“Oh, this just bloody figures. You’re worse than a newsagent, you know that?” He stands, letting his chair scrape noisily.

“What? What’ve I done?”

She truly looks horrified at his reaction, but he’s too angry to care.

“Oh, god. You’re a detective, wait-you’re...Shit!”

“I need a moment.” He storms to the exit before he makes a bigger scene than he already has. Outside, the air is quieter and he squeezes his eyes shut. If a hole opened in the earth and swallowed him alive, he would gladly let it happen.

He hears the door open behind him and the edge returns to his nerves.

“Hey.”

He turns, ready to give her hell when the wounded look in her eyes catches him off guard.

“Hear me out, okay?”

He nods, and she takes a breath. “Your profile said you’re a detective, but I swear I didn’t put it together. You’re DI Alec Hardy; _that_ DI Alec Hardy. It was your case.”

“Yeah.”

“I swear I’m not writing about you. I’m not even writing that exact story. It’s just a source of inspiration, you know? It’s not meant to be a retelling or a bio or whatever. I’ve been in London most of my life so I needed to get the feel for a smaller town and how crime and sex plays out here.”

“Is that where you were an escort?”

Her face turns red and she looks away. “Yeah.”

Hardy exhales through his nose and rubs his brow. “The case is a sore spot for me.”

“Guess we all have got something, then.”

They both fall silent, yet something holds them to the spot. Cars go by, people loop around them on their way past, and he looks up. Stars begin to speckle the darkening sky. He can’t shake how his stomach felt when he first saw her picture. Like a rollercoaster, but delicate. Falling without fear of how he’ll land.

“I’ve really cocked this up. I’m sorry. I’ll, ah, have a nice night.” Hannah’s smile is fleeting as she turns to go.

“Ehm, maybe I could walk with you?”

The corner of her mouth quirks. “I’d like that.”

_to be continued..._


	5. Episode 4, Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place during Broadchurch s3, ep 4 as more of a combo missing and replacement scene. Thanks to the wonderful Lostinfic for the beta. :)

_ Present _

Hannah threads her fingers through Alec’s hair and smiles at the calm that comes over him from her touch. They’re lounging on the sofa together, Alec stretched out with his head in Hannah’s lap. He came home for a bite to eat after an earlier-than-usual start to his day, and when she noticed how utterly exhausted he looked, she insisted on a kip. He insisted on her lap.

“Do you remember when we first met?” he asks, eyes still closed.

“How could I forget? I almost scared you off.”

There’s a lazy smile in response. He finds her free hand and holds it on his chest. “When this case is over, I want to take you out on a proper date.”

“Why wait?”

His smile slips, and a line forms between his brows. “I want to be fully present. I’ve been an arse and you deserve every bit of me I can give.”

A swoop of affection hits her stomach and she wrestles with a smidge of guilt for feeling so selfish.

“Maybe we can go out anyway?”  She squeezes his hand. “It could help clear your head, and I’ve been so stir crazy.”

“Not unless Daisy comes along. I’ve already stood her up for a lunch date.”

Hannah purses her lips. The old version of herself that swore off children and marriage and settling down in general tries to surface. The version who wants him all to herself. But she shakes it off. She still feels emphatically uninterested in conventional domesticity, however this isn’t quite the same. Daisy is nearly an adult, and living with them isn’t so bad. Alec makes her feel so loved and accepted, she doesn’t want to ever lose that. Broadchurch isn’t perfect, but living here with the man she loves is far better than the dangerous downward spiral of isolation, risk, and recklessness she had emerged from not long before they met.

“Is something wrong, Han?”

Hannah blinks away a tear as her emotions get the better of her. He’s looking up at her with those warm brown eyes that she loves so much. She traces the edge of his face with her fingers. “No, I’m okay.” She sniffles. “Let’s do it. The three of us.”

Alec tilts his head. “Really?”

She nods. “Then when you’ve arrested the bastard, let’s go off for a weekend somewhere else, just you and me.”

“Absolutely.”

“Just try not to be such a git in the meantime.”

“Yes, dear.” His eyes drift shut again. He looks so undeniably gorgeous when he’s content. A few minutes pass, and her thoughts return to the day they met.

“Why did you want to walk me home that day?”

“You’re very sexy.”

Hannah laughs. “Shut up. No, really.”

“You came outside to make sure someone you barely knew didn’t think badly of you, and I wanted to make sure you knew I didn’t think badly of you.”

“Aww, I thought it was because you’re one of the last true gentlemen.”

He smirks with a snort. “Is that why you asked me to come inside?”

“No, that was because I wanted to shag you.”

“Fuck. I knew it.” He covers his eyes with his forearm. “What was I thinking?”

Hannah laughs, and worms a finger under his shirt between the buttons. She strokes his chest, annoyed that he’s wearing a vest underneath. It would take no effort to pop open the button, or slide her hand down the line of buttons straight to his belt buckle. She bites her lip, imagining him harden as she does so.

She returns her attention to his face, and finds him staring at her again, though it’s a darker, more pleading gaze. It’s too tempting, so she grazes her fingernails down the top of his thigh, close but not close enough.

“You were thinking longer term,” she says, watching his eyes go unfocused.

“I deleted that bloody app as soon as I got home. Phoned you the next day.” He grabs her wandering hand and kisses her knuckles. “And now I’ve got to go back to work.”

Hannah pouts. “You forgot to eat something.” 

He sits up. “I can’t tell if you’re being suggestive.”

“I wasn’t, but I like that I’ve corrupted you.”

He makes a sound of amusement that's about as close to a laugh as he's capable of lately. “I’ll let Daisy know we’re going out. I’ll, ah, I’ll try to get off early. Argh, stop—” He points at her smirk. “I know what you’re thinking.”

Hannah doesn’t even try to feign innocence. After changes upon changes, she’s still the same dirty-minded flirt. She nearly recommends something suggestive he could do with that finger, yet he has important work to do.

“I'll make a reservation,” she says. “The older place on the river.” There are no chain eateries here. That took some getting used to. She didn't care fundamentally, but the familiarity of a Nando’s or Masala Zone might help her feel more at home.

“Just not a chippy.” He kisses her before he stands and heads to the kitchen. With an apple and a granola bar in hand, he sets off to keep this kingdom safe.   
  


A couple hours later, Hannah rolls her neck after submitting the latest draft of her novel to her publisher. It’s such a relief to finish on time after panicking for the past few days that she’d not be able to meet the deadline. She celebrates with a glass of rosé and the speakers on blast in the lounge. 

As though it’s an instinct, she begins to dance as she straightens up the place. A little feel-good cleaning never hurts. She sings along to Beyoncé and makes a mental list of decorations left to replace as she dusts off the tables and lamps. The house came furnished, and Hardy claimed to have no space in his brain for interior design considerations, so he let her have full reign. 

She turns to work on the sofa area and gasps at a figure standing right there in the lounge. Thank god it’s only Daisy.

“Sorry!” Daisy holds her hands over her mouth, a little startled herself. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

Hannah lowers the volume on the music. “It’s okay. Having a little do 'cos I finished my book in time.”

“Oh, that’s great. When is it going to be published?” Daisy tosses her books on the table and sits with a heavy sigh. 

“They’re aiming for a late summer release. Did you talk to your dad?” 

She doesn’t make eye contact with Hannah, and moves a bit slowly to open her textbooks. “Yeah, earlier at the match for Trish.” 

Hannah takes a sip of wine as she waits for Daisy to mention their outing. Instead, she quietly opens her laptop and goes off into a trance waiting for it to boot up.

“Glass of wine?” 

Daisy’s eyebrows raise, but she keeps her eyes on her schoolwork. “Dad won’t let me til I’m eighteen.”

“Oh, right. Well, one more year!” Hannah forces a smile, feeling increasingly awkward. 

“Yeah.” A flicker of sadness crosses Daisy’s expression, then she shakes her head. “Sorry I can’t go out with you and dad.”

Hannah tilts her head. “Oh?”

“Yeah. A stupid group project. They’re going to come over to help.” She sighs and stares helplessly at her stack of books and binders. “If they still want to.”

Hannah wrinkles her nose. “Ugh, group projects are the pits.” 

Daisy smiles a little, and Hannah can’t help but see how much she resembles Alec. “Yeah. Bring something home for me?”

“Sure!”  
  


Hannah and Alec head out for dinner a few hours later, but not after a bit of back and forth between him and Daisy. Alec kept insisting they should cancel if Daisy couldn’t go, and Daisy kept insisting she had her mind set on the lobster rolls ever since Hannah mentioned where they were going. Hannah insisted she didn’t want to be blamed, but the lobster rolls were bloody delicious. 

The restaurant isn’t very posh, but it’s the oldest in Broadchurch. It rests right where the Brit river flows into the Bridport harbour. The current owner married a woman from New England, who introduced the area to a few hearty seafaring meals of her own tradition. Hence the lobster roll.

Hannah likes the outdoor area with the fairy lights strung in a zig-zag overhead. Boats drift to and fro down the river. Feels a bit like a cafe in London if she closes her eyes.

Alec has largely gotten over his ambivalence of the river, but he still casts a dark eye toward it as they settle. He asks her questions about the book she sent off to the publisher. He read the first manuscript and offered technical feedback on police procedure, but the most important thing was that he gave it his blessing. It was loosely inspired by the Sandbrook scandal, after all.

“It’s incredible. You’re incredible,” he says. “I’d never know it was the same case.”

“It’s meant to be more about the sexual relationship between the conspiring murderers and how it led to their downfall.”

“Yeah, that wasn’t too far from the truth, though I’m glad you made them nothing like their real life counterparts. I wouldn’t have been able to read those bits.” 

Hannah smiles. “So you  _ did _ read those bits.”

“Skimmed. There’s only so much talk about chiseled muscles I can take before I start questioning why you’re with me.”

“That’s what sells. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”   
  


About halfway through their meal, Daisy sends Alec a text that her project mates never showed up, but she’s fine and that they shouldn’t worry. 

“The older Latimer girl stopped by.” Alec says, looking at his phone. He sighs through his nose. “I don’t have a good feeling about this.”

“About Chloe stopping by?”

“Not in itself. Daisy seemed fine when I spoke to her at the beach, but I just have a feeling something’s going on.”

Hannah studies his beleaguered posture. The worry so bare in his eyes that she feels it too. She doesn’t have the parental sixth sense, but she noticed Daisy’s somber mood. Hannah was a teenage girl before. Sometimes she just didn’t want to be around anyone, particularly when there’d been a row with her mates. 

“I wish she would talk to me if something’s wrong,” he says. He forks a maple ginger carrot but doesn’t eat it.

Hannah bites her lip. “Maybe it’s embarrassing for her?”

“Can we go?” 

“Yeah.”

She remembers Daisy’s lobster roll, and flags the waiter. Twenty minutes later, they’re heading home on foot. The night is cool and calm. Hannah slips her arm though Alec’s and they walk in companionable silence along the riverbank and into the neighborhood. 

“Sorry. Didn’t do so well getting my mind off of things.” He looks over at her. “I still like spending time with you.”

“Me too.” She smiles. 

They’re so caught up in each other, that they don’t notice someone is about to bump into them until they do. 

“Whoa!” 

Ellie gasps with a jump. “Shit!”

“Miller!” 

Ellie braces herself with a hand over her heart. “Christ. You scared me!”

“Watch where you’re going!”

Hannah elbows Alec. “Weren’t exactly looking ourselves were we.”

“What’re you doing out—oh! hi Hannah!”

Hannah smiles. “Hi.”

“So it was a cheeky date, huh?” Ellie maintains a teasing grin as she looks between the two of them. “Ooh! You went to Theresa’s place! Smells so good.”

“Aye, we’ve got to get home with it now.”

“Wait, did you see? Just came through,” Ellie says, holding out her phone. “DNA results. The swabs—” She glances at Hannah. Hannah looks up at the trees and pretends not to be interested.

Alec takes her phone to read it for himself. “Shit. We’ve got to...” He looks to Hannah. “Suspect to question.”

“Ah! I’ll just…” Hannah glances warily down the dark neighbourhood streets.

“Come on, I live just over there.” Ellie nods up the road. “I’ll get my car and drop you off before we go.”


	6. Episode 5

Hardy paces his lounge as he waits for Hannah to ring him back. Miller’s texting up a storm, phoning the station. They had just wrapped up their discussion of the investigation map when Hannah sent an ominous, incoherent text.

_ths cab drier just threat me_

Rays of sunlight scatter with his restless movements. She’d think it’s a beautiful day. The windows should be open to let in fresh air. He can almost hear her say it, and he squeezes his eyes shut to will away fearful thoughts.

He tries to phone her again, but it goes straight to voicemail. “Why isn’t she answering? Can we figure out where she is?”

“How?”

“I dunno, the GPS?”

“I’ve got no clue how to do that from here. We can phone Harford and see if she can work it out?”

Hardy’s mobile rings. His hands shake as he answers. “Hannah! Are you safe? You were threatened?”

“Yes, I’m fine now. Sorry, I sent that text without really looking. I was afraid if he saw me using my mobile that he’d pull over and try something.”

“Christ. What happened?”

“I rode out to Weymouth for a bit of a wander.”

He closes his eyes. “Yes, and?”

“Used a red cab on the way back. The cab driver, he tried to chat me up. Started off with the usual, compliments and things, but the longer I brushed him off he got angrier about it.” She’s walking somewhere, sounds a little out of breath.

He switches ears. “Han, where are you? I’ll come get you.”

“Oh, you’re not at the station? I’m walking there.”

“No. I came home to talk to Daisy. Something happened to her and I-Hannah is there anything else? What’d he look like? Did you get a name?”

“Short dark hair, I dunno. Clint? Clive? What happened to Daisy?”

He snaps his fingers to Miller, and mouths _Clive._ Miller’s eyes go wide.

“Nevermind, we’ll talk about that later. Your text said you were threatened. What did he say to you?”

“He told me he…” her voice trails off for a moment. “Sorry, people walking by. He asked if I wanted to stop for a bite to eat; I said no. Asked if I had plans tonight, gave me compliments. I got sick of being polite and told him to piss off. Then he just glares at me in the mirror. Told me I didn’t have to be a bitch, said he knows who I am and where I live.”

“Anything else?”

“No. I told him to drop me off as soon as we arrived in Broadchurch, and he did. That’s when I phoned you.”

“Go on into the station and tell them I said to keep you comfortable till I get there.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll phone my DC to let her know. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

Hardy pockets his mobile. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he rubs his hand down his face. “She’s at the station.”

“ _Clive_ threatened her? What’d he say?” Miller asks, fishing for her keys. “Take my car, I’ll stay here with Daisy. ”

“He said he knows who she is and where she lives.” He glares at the map. “What’s he doing in Weymouth?”

“It’s not that far. Not unusual for tourists to come up from Weymouth for a bit of golf.”

“But it’s as though he knew she’d be there, isn’t it? When does he have time to look someone up unless he knew ahead of time? Dammit, Miller. We can’t bring him in on that. It’s not enough. It’s not a clear threat.”

“It’s a bit vague, but he’s a suspect. I see what you’re saying though. What are the odds he’d be there to pick her up unless he was already out that way. How does he _know_ her anyway? He snooping on you out of spite?”

Hardy’s expression darkens. That’s a definite concern, but even more so—what did he mean by ‘knows who she is?’ Knows she’s an author? That she used to be an escort? He keeps those queries to himself and heads out to meet her at the police station.

///

Hardy finds Hannah in his office with a cup of tea. Harford intersects with a few updates on the case, and at last he’s able to shut the door and draw the blinds. 

Hannah’s not as shaken as he thought she’d be. She says she’s been through worse, but that only worries him more. He decides to go ahead and take her official statement on the matter given that Clive is a suspect. She retells the experience exactly as she had on the phone, with a few extra details.

She hailed him, didn’t phone in a request. He seemed agitated at first. Kept looking back at her. Picked up a fare from a resort hotel up the street, an older couple. Tourists. Didn’t start chatting her up till he’d dropped off the couple in Abbotsbury, about halfway back to Broadchurch. He vaguely mentioned the Winterman case before he began hitting on her, but she didn’t bite.

Hardy leans forward and reaches for her hands once she’s off record. “I’m sorry you had to find out this way that he’s a suspect.”

Hannah shifts in her seat. Her gaze falls on their joined hands. “I just wanted to get out for a bit.”

“I know.”

She squeezes his hand. “Are we done? Can we go home now?”

“Yes.”

He leads her from his office with his hand resting on her lower back. The constables and other staff give them intrigued looks, but his mind is too preoccupied to care. On the short ride back to the house, he fills her in about Daisy.

“I don’t know what to do, Han. I tried to do right by her and I still failed.”

“Does her mother know?”

“God, no.” He squeezes the steering wheel, tensing. “Did you ever experience anything like that?”

She snorts. “God, when I was seventeen my mobile couldn’t take photos, but sure. Teenage boys are awful.”

“Would you have taken compromising photos of yourself?”

“I did. Just not with my phone.”

“Oh.” He frowns. “Why would you do it if boys were so awful?”

“It’s not about them, well, it can be and that’s a girl’s choice. It’s more about self expression. Owning our sexuality. It feels powerful.” She picks at a nick in her jean shorts. “So that’s been taken from her.”

Hardy’s chest aches with those words. Daisy feels powerless and unsure of herself. No wonder she says it’s worse here. At least the school term is almost over and she won’t have to be around these idiot kids for long. Could the summer offer some distance from the situation even in such a small town?

They get home so Ellie can relieve her father of child-minding duties. Hannah offers making supper, which allows him a bit of time to bond with Daisy. They’re out on the porch when Hannah opens the window.

“It’s so nice out,” she remarks from inside with a smile. The sun is beginning to set and the skyline is a magnificent gradation of colour, unmarred by even the slightest wisp of cloud. Hannah looks past them to the beach. “Fancy a picnic? I’m making sandwiches anyway.”

“Erm… I don’t--”

“Yeah,” Daisy answers for them both. “Sounds nice.”

“Appears that I’m outnumbered.”

///

Hardy stares at the clock on the nightstand. Three AM. He shifts his position to lie on his back, but the ceiling isn’t any more helpful at clearing away the storm of worries that plagues him. The beach picnic suspended reality for an hour or so, and he put up with it more as a balm for Daisy and Hannah than for himself. He hates the idea of sand anywhere near his food. Yet they carried on playfully, bare feet in the surf and laughter in the air, as he sat on the blanket with his heart beating only for them.

He closes his eyes and not a minute later does he feel Hannah’s hand glide across his abdomen. She scoots closer to him and kisses his shoulder.

“I’m sorry I brought you and Daiz to this town of nightmares,” he says. He wraps an arm around her to hold her close.

Hannah giggles and it gives him butterflies. “Honestly, I’ve already worked out a plot for my next novel. Kinda want to try the paranormal erotica angle this time: Cozy seaside village defended from the merman mafia by a sexy detective duo.”

Hardy groans “I might have to steer clear of reading that one.”

“But in the end, it turns out one of the detectives is a merman himself, and he must return to the sea.”

He looks at her. “That’s a bit sad.”

“That’s how I get people to beg for a part two.”

“Clever, though ‘merman mafia’ might be a hard sell to start with.”

“The sea monster syndicate.”

He chuckles, then sighs. “Seriously, Han. I feel terrible. Bloody Clive. What are the chances... Do you reckon he knows about your, ehm… former job?”

“I doubt it.”

“Really? Why?”

Hannah shifts and takes a deep breath. He rubs her arm reassuringly.

“He’s an opportunistic creep, I could tell. He wouldn’t go through the trouble of soliciting a prostitute from London, and even if he had, my online content has been sufficiently scrubbed. I wrote the escort biography under a pseudonym. I’m really careful.” She props up on her elbow so she can gaze down at him. “He was disturbed by something when I got in, I think he was just ready to have a go at someone and picked me.”

“That doesn’t make it okay.”

A line forms between her brows. “I know.”

He reaches up and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Do you like being here? Broadchurch.”

“It has its charm, but I’m not attached.”

“Daisy said it’s worse here than in Sandbrook.” He rests his hand on her cheek after idly stroking her hair. “I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Hannah tilts her face into his hand and kisses his palm.

“I’ve made promises I’m not so sure I can keep. Trish has put her faith in us, yet we couldn’t properly put Joe Miller behind bars where he belongs.” He gently grazes the backs of his fingers along her jaw, down her neck, across her shoulder as he talks. “We do all we can, chase every lead. Yet that means Daisy’s fending for herself. You’re alone and have to wander off two towns over. I feel like in order for me to fix one thing, something else has to--”

Hannah cuts him off with a firm kiss. The sound of his next word becomes a groan caught in his throat. His hand tightens around her arm, pulls her closer.

“Alec,” she says softly, but she already has his attention. “One thing at a time. I’m here where I want to be, with you.”

Her lips brush his and it drives him mad for more. She slides her leg over his thighs, and places languid kisses down his throat. God, how she can take him from a wreck to aroused in mere seconds.

She pulls off her shirt. Her knickers are little shorts made of lace. He’s not sure what to say but her name, and he can barely do that when she wraps her hand around his erection. She moves down further, kisses sparking flames under his skin as she strokes him. Her hair tangles between his fingers. Her lips part and the feel of her breath on his sensitive flesh makes him thrust into her fist.

All sensations become concentrated. Her scent is all around him. There’s no wind through the eaves, no whisper of surf beyond the window, just the creak of the bed and his panting breath. Her hair tickles his abdomen. Her mouth slides over him, wet and warm, then he hits the back of her throat.

“Fuck!”

“Shhh,” she says, and sits up. Gestures with a grin and a tilt of her head to the open window.

He swallows, but can’t be bothered to worry about that right now. Instead, he stares at her, her breasts, her lace-covered sex, and he feels so perverse for it, but she touches herself as a way to implore his gaze. Her moan makes him twitch. He grips her thighs. She removes her knickers, and his eyes roll back when he’s finally inside of her.

Moments later, they rest entwined as the sea breeze from the open window cools their heated skin. He kisses the crown of her head and she nestles closer in her sleep. Hannah tried her best to tire him, to relax him, only now he lies awake from the pang of how much he loves her.


	7. Episode 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For timeline clarification, Hardy meets Hannah about a year and a half ago. This first scene takes place eight months ago, so they have been together roughly 8 months.

_Eight months ago, London_ **  
**

Hannah sits at her kitchen table to write the story inspired by the Sandbrook case. It’s her fourth book published under H.M. Baxter after her first trilogy, an erotic coming-of-age tale loosely drawn from personal experience, did very well in the UK. She’s been to book signings and erotic fiction conventions around the (English-speaking) world. Her income has almost surpassed what she earned as an escort. Yet the success hasn’t yet bolstered her confidence.

The blank page is a blinding, snow-covered landscape. She’s got to start ploughing through it, or she’ll catch hell from her publisher. How many times has she studied her outline notes? Still, nothing comes. Instead, there’s this heavy self doubt. She’s a hack. Those one-star reviews are right, a twelve-year-old could come up with a better story. All she’s good for is whoring herself.

Two weeks ago, she’d been at a book signing when one of her former clients showed up. He threatened her, tried to blackmail her for money and accused her of tearing his family apart. Security had to haul him out, but it caused quite a stir in the rags the following day.

_Local Author H.M. Baxter A Former Prostitute? Distraught fan confronts her in front of dozens._

Her stomach transformed into a perpetual knot of writhing snakes for two straight weeks while a mate of hers scoured the internet for any hint of her former life. He found nothing, as he insisted he wouldn’t because he’s good at what he does. But so are the journalists.

“Just start,” she says to herself. Something is better than nothing. She phones Alec instead. It’s a distraction, but his voice always helps.

“Hannah,” he says.

“Can you come to London this weekend?”

“I, er, possibly. It would have to be one night though. Saturday night.”

“That’s fine. I’ll pay for your train ticket.”

“Don’t have to do that. Are you all right, Han?”

“Yeah... I just miss you.”

“I miss you too.”

Days later, when he’s finally by her side under the duvet, she props her head up to look at him. “Sometimes I think about hiding somewhere nobody knows who I am for a little while.”

“You’re always welcome back in Sandbrook.”

She gives him a pointed look. “I’m sure your ex will love it.”

“I forgot about that.” He rubs his face with a groan.

“Lovely last day in Sandbrook, that.” She already stayed three weeks longer than planned, thanks to a certain little emotion that had gathered in her chest. That day, they’d gone out to the shops, Alec, Daisy, and herself, but Alec was called into work for a quick witness interview. That’s when things got weird. Alone with his daughter? They’d only just met.

To bide the time till Alec could rejoin them, they popped into a boutique. The funky styles and bonkers prices gave them something to talk about until they ran into none other than Daisy’s mother. Daisy’s livid, pinch-mouthed mother. God, the things she said reminded her of her own mother. Hannah decided she liked Daisy after that.

“The problem is eventually people in the new place get to know you,” Hannah says.

“Can’t think of why anyone wouldn’t want to know you.”

She picks at a crease in the sheet, thinking back to the bookshop incident, and beyond to her former life. All the people she alienated or hurt.

“You haven’t known me that long. I used to think I loved London because of the anonymity, but that’s because I was doing something, you know. Illicit,” she says, pausing there. His eyes follow along the contours of her face as she speaks, and his gaze drops at the end. She doesn’t let it stop her. “Now that I’m not, I see ghosts of myself everywhere. Hotels, bars, shops. Parliament.”

He arches an eyebrow. “Did something happen? You told me you made peace with all of that before.”

She tells him about the bookshop and the tabloids. He pulls her close and kisses her forehead. “I’m sorry. Why didn’t you tell me when it happened?”

“You’ve handled the whole ‘former prostitute’ thing so well I was afraid to bring it up again.”

“Oh.”

“It doesn’t bother you at all?”

“No.” His face shifts from relaxed to pensive. “At first, yes.”

“Tell me. Let’s just get it out in the open so we don’t have to talk about it anymore.”

He takes a deep breath. She braces herself.

“Right. Okay… Ehm, it goes against my sense of morality. I-I devote myself, er, I’m monogamous. Don’t know how many men you’ve slept with and I don’t think I want to. Men cheated on their wives with you. I don’t understand the draw of it; I’d never hire one myself. It can spread diseases, it puts your life at risk, someone at some point is breaking the law. I worried that I’d never be enough and I can’t–” his voice breaks, then he continues, “I can’t go through that again.”

She stills, her breath shallow and eyes wide. His words ring in her ears and she feels far away from herself. Lost in the snow-blind landscape.

“Hannah,” he says with a hand on her cheek. “I’m sorry. You said–”

“It’s okay.” God, but she feels so meek. “This is good. Go on.”

“I knew about it going in. It’s not some surprise you’ve dropped on me and I suppose that helps. For some inexplicable reason you put it in a dating profile.” She smiles at that, and he pauses, losing his train of thought for a second. “Erm, I put it aside and met you anyway and I’m so glad I did.”

“I was bored and hadn’t been shagged in a while, about the profile. In a different place, unknown, I guess old habits creeped in. But I think I just didn’t want it to happen, you know? Scare everyone off before they even have a go. I avoided dating for so long after I.. after I quit. But finding someone like you? Never would’ve imagined.”

He smiles shyly, gaze averting. She kisses the lines that splay from the corners of his eyes.

“There’s something I–,” he hesitates, rubbing his brow. “I’ve been thinking of moving with Daisy back to Broadchurch. Mentioned it to her and she’s keen, so I hoped to, uh...that is–” He looks at her, searching.

Hannah waits with her head tilted to him but her line of sight aimed across the room as she toys with a few strands of hair. She’s already imagining commuting to the beach every couple of weeks, and it doesn’t sound half bad.

“Given that you’ve got thoughts about a change of pace, maybe… would you like to stay with us for a while? As long as you want. A weekend, a week… or more. I dunnae. Or none, perhaps, if that’s your–”

“You and Daisy, huh?”

“Well, yes.”

Her stomach twists with conflicting emotions. “Maybe you should settle in first and I can come for a treat? If I like it there, I dunno, maybe I’ll take you up on it.”

“A very reasonable suggestion.”

///

_Present, Broadchurch_

Hannah pops into the local bookshop to peruse the used section. Used shelves are different in every town, like fingerprints, identifying just what makes a place unique from the rest. Now that her head’s out of her own novel, she can finally settle down with someone else’s story.

But before she can reach the used book section, she’s caught off guard by a display with her author headshot, her name, and stacks of her books.   _Read more from Broadchurch’s famous new resident!_

“Oh, look!” exclaims a woman nearby.

Hannah gapes, realising the person had been telling others to look at her.

“Are you doing a signing today, then?” one asks.

“No, no, I’m just brows–”

“Oh, that would be splendid!” says another. An employee. God, this can’t be happening.

“I met you at the London convention, remember? What’ve you got coming next, then?”

Yet another! Is the whole bloody town in the store?

“I don’t believe that tripe in the papers, did you hear about that, Rachel? Some nutter accusing her of being a prossie.”

It takes about fifteen minutes to shake them off, but at last she’s out of the door and on her way home. The tears finally fall when she’s in the silent house. Daisy and Alec are on the beach, and she’s glad they can’t see her crumble like this.

Alec never comes back inside. A break in the case, according to Daisy. By the time he does arrive home, she’s already decided she has to go.

“No, please stay. Hannah, please. Not you too,” he says, eyes wide and imploring.

“Me too?”

“Daisy bought a train ticket. She wants to go back to her mother.”

Hannah’s heart drops, and she looks to the packed bag leaning against the sofa. She’d been so upset by her own situation she hadn’t noticed.

He puts a hand on her arm. “Hannah, I’ll go talk to the shop owner. They’ll take down the display, I promise. It’ll be okay, we’ll deal with this.”

“They knew about the story in the papers. All the way down here, in the middle of fucking nowhere land. They knew and started on about it, I just can’t–” she chokes up.

“I’m sorry.” He rubs her arms. “Hannah, love, I’m so sorry.”

She moves closer and he folds his arms around her, that firm, protective embrace of his perfectly made for moments like this.

“I’ve been so happy with you and Dais here. I feel like I’m finally…” he doesn’t finish the sentence, but kisses the side of her head. She squeezes his torso.

“I was gonna just let it go till she brought up the stupid papers.”

“Did she believe it?”

“No…”

“Good. That’s good, isn’t it?”

“...yes.”

But all it takes is for the wrong person to tug at the right thread, and it all comes undone.


	8. Episode 7

Hardy drags the end of his tie through the loop to form a knot without paying much attention to how it looks. He barely acknowledges his reflection at all, so detached from the process. The inevitable loneliness circles him like a vulture. Every move he makes is cast in its shadow.

Hannah shifts in her sleep. He rests his hand on the doorframe as he looks her over, watching her settle back into slumber. Morning sunlight gives her skin an ethereal glow, though that could be his imagination. She said she wouldn’t leave yet, that she needed time to think, but he already feels like he’s staring at a memory.

Reluctantly, he ducks out to the lounge where Daisy waits to be taken to school. She’s scrolling through her phone, her face as blank as he feels. Though they’re in the same room, she’s miles away from him, heart packed up and ready to leave like the rest of her things. His words on the beach yesterday appeared to have had no effect. He grabs his keys, and she looks up.

“Ready?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

He starts across the room and trips on the edge of her luggage. He catches himself on the arm of the sofa but bangs his knee on the lamp table in the process.

“Shit!” Pain swells sharply and his eyes tear up.

“Oh, god, I’m sorry!” She moves her luggage to the side, out of the walking path.

He rubs his smarting kneecap with a wince. “God’s sake, Dais.” The pain makes it difficult to keep his anger in check, but he manages to grind out the words without sounding too harsh. “Why the hell is this still out here?”

“I’m leaving today.”

He sobers at the way she turns to head for the door. “Darling, wait. I’m so–” his words catch on a twinge of pain as he straightens his leg. “Sorry. Please wait till I pick you up from school today to decide? There’s still time to change your mind.”

“Fine.” She’s humoring him, but he’ll take it for now.

Once he’s finally recovered from the pain, Hannah emerges from the bedroom. She rubs her eyes with a yawn. “What happened? I heard yelling.” She still has on his button-up and not much else.

“Ehm…Nothing. I tripped.” Hardy distractedly opens the door and nudges Daisy to the porch. “Wait in the car, darling. I’ll be right out.”

Daisy mumbles something indiscernible as she follows his demand. He then turns his attention back to Hannah.

“Will you be home for supper?” she asks.

Her hair is a disaster and she looks groggy as hell, but he forgets his misery at the sight of her standing there like that. He’d sell his soul to live out his days with her, and when she smiles up to him as he approaches, he believes that he might not have to.

“I’ll try my best.” He moves a strand of hair behind her ear. “Are you certain you don’t want me to talk to the bookshop owner?”

“No. I’ll do it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I should. I’ve stood up to worse.” She takes a moment to straighten his tie. “First, gonna sleep more.”

He leans in to kiss her. She hugs him as it lingers, and he senses her reluctance when he has to let go–Daisy’s waiting. At least if Hannah hasn’t made up her mind on leaving, it doesn’t seem like she’s eager to go. He lets that comfort him as he heads out.

 

Early afternoon, Hardy’s phone buzzes from his coat pocket. He’s so wound up by the case that it doesn’t register who’s calling. “Hello,” he answers curtly.

 _“Hi. Guess what I just did?”_ Hannah’s voice.

He rubs his brow and closes his eyes. She bought a bloody train ticket, didn’t she? His stomach turns. Wait. No, she spoke with the bookshop. God’s sake, he really needs to settle down.

“Tell me.”

_“I went to the bookshop. Gave them a few choice words without being too bitchy. Told them to take down the sensationalist poster about me but they could leave the display if they wanted.”_

“Really? Leave the display?”

_“Mmhm. I thought, you know, last time this happened–well not this, but with the former client, right–”_

“Yes…”

_“My agent handled it. I felt so out of control ‘cos I didn’t deal with it myself. If it’s inevitable that someday my past would come around then it’ll be on my own terms.”_

Hardy removes his glasses, and leans back to relax into his chair. His chest tightens with a mixture of admiration and love. “How are you feeling now then?”

_“Better. See? Even treated myself at the salon.”_

His phone vibrates, and he looks down to see that she’s texted him a photo of herself. She’s blonde again, and her face is lit up with a cheeky grin.

“Why’d you get rid of the ginger?”

_“This feels more like myself. If they’re gonna recognise me anyway, why not go back to blonde. Disappointed?”_

“Doesn’t matter. You’d look stunning with blue hair.”

_“Don’t tempt me.”_

“I do have a soft spot for the blonde.”

_“One more thing.”_

“Yeah?”

_“I’m staying. I love you, and I’m staying. When things get hard I sometimes want to run, but I can’t keep doing that.”_

He sits forward, heart fluttering like it might take off for the sunset. “That-that’s–thank you. Hannah, I’m–”

_“Now go catch the bad guy and I’ll see you tonight.”_

He makes the photo of her his lock screen, and stares at it until Miller wanders in, eating a bag of crisps, to talk about the case. When she leaves, he sends Hannah a series of texts.

_Whatever I did that helped make you want to stay, please let me know if I ever stop so I can set it right. You mean so bloody much to me. Never thought I’d feel this way again as old as I am, but I want to do daft things like stay up all night havering with you in a field under the stars. We can go wherever you want in the world. If you want to run away, I know the feeling, I’ll run with you. I love you, Hannah. See you tonight._

In typical Hannah fashion, she replies with a snapchat of herself blowing him a kiss, wearing only a bra and one of his ties draped over her shoulders. He shakes his head, chuckling. Then she follows-up with a text of her own.

_You have me tongue-tied, never been so loved up. lots of happy feelings xxxoo_

 

It’s close to when Hardy has to pick her up at school when Daisy phones him to say she’s definitely still leaving. His heart plunges, instantly pulling him out of the realm of hope he’d been clinging to after talking to Hannah.

He waits in carpool for Daisy to emerge from her final class. Defeat weighs on his heart and he wrestles with Miller’s suggestion to tear up her ticket. Hannah’s words of self-empowerment echo in conflict with that suggestion. Would he take that from Daisy if he were to outright forbid her from going away? But he’s her father, and his little girl’s been hurt in a way he could never understand. He grips the steering wheel just thinking about it. Students have begun spilling out of the school after the final bell.

Panic sets in when Daisy exits the school. Her bonnie long hair flutters in a breeze and catches the bright sunlight like nothing’s wrong. It’s down to the wire. She’ll be gone before dark if he doesn’t do something. She opens the car door and slides into her seat. Within moments of driving away from the school, she’s fidgeting with the ticket.


	9. Episode 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta: @lostinfic <3 thanks for everything you do  
> Warnings: Spoilers for s3. Rape mentions.  
> Stats Source: https://rapecrisis.org.uk/statistics.php
> 
> Thank you so much for reading <3

_Friday_ **  
**

Hannah stands amid the crowd of women that have gathered, mobile phones raised high. Electric blue lights dapple the night like a hundred digital fireflies. It feels good to be part of something like this. She’s never really been much of an activist, but this is different. It’s solidarity, reclamation of strength and self, yes, but it’s also one step further into this community. Into a sense of belonging. The women next to her are her neighbours, not just a faceless crowd that passes her by, unaffected by her choices. That both terrifies and comforts her. Maybe what she really needs now is a friend, because if something ever went wrong between her and Alec—

“Let me take a photo of us.”

Hannah blinks and looks down to Daisy, who has a big smile and the same warmth in her eyes as her father. “Me and you?”

“Yeah.”

She leans in with a curious twisting sensation in her chest, and smiles when their heads touch. The flash goes off, and Daisy turns her attention back to the spectacle surrounding them.

Eventually, the crowd disperses and Hannah walks home with Daisy. They reach the long path that leads behind a cluster of rowhouses to their home on the hill. Here, out of the glow of the street lamps, trees and shrubs that line the walk become sinister. They rustle from the near-constant breeze, the dark shadows they cast a reminder that a predator still lurks out there somewhere.

“Did you know that about eleven rapes happen every hour?” Daisy says.

“Oh, my god, really? That many?” She gives the shadows a deeply worried glance.

“That’s just with adults in England and Wales,” Daisy elaborates, eyes focused on her trainers as they grind the sandy walkway.  “Dad told me that if I’m ever frightened, to just look up information to understand it better. He meant for, like, meat-eating dinosaurs in my closet, but I still do it with everything.”

“Does it help, then?”

“It does, yeah.”  
  
“I dunno, that statistic’s gonna make it hard for me to sleep tonight.”

“Sorry. I was just thinking. I had my photo stolen, just an image, but rape? I feel kind of guilty for being upset.”

Hannah frowns. “Aw, Daisy, can’t think about it like that. They’re both awful things, aren’t they? Either way it’s men being great big pieces of shit.”

“Yeah,” Daisy says with a chuckle.

They approach the stairs and Hannah’s phone buzzes. “Except this one. Mostly.” She presses the answer button. “Hi Alec.”

_“Hi Han. I won’t be home for supper, sorry. Can’t say why, but it’s a good thing. Hope that’s vaguely reassuring?”_

“Mmm, makes me think you’ve caught the bad guy. Have you, then?”

_“I can’t talk about the case. Can you let Daisy know?”_

“Yeah. I’ll see you when you get home.” Hannah sighs as she rings off, feeling a mixture of relief that the rapist could be captured, and disappointment that she’s spent all day in this giddy, romantic mood with no real outlet. “Says he won’t be home. Think this case might be over soon.”

Daisy opens the front door for them. “There’s always another case.”

///

_Sunday_

Daisy stands behind her dad and Hannah as they wait in the queue to enter the church. She’s decided that, despite her dad tearing up her ticket, she will leave Broadchurch to stay with her mum for the summer once she’s sat for her last exam. Things were so lovely here until an awful boy did an awful thing.

Her first instinct was to run. The peaceful beach atmosphere changed within minutes to an ominous landscape. Now, things seem better at least. Punishments have been doled, and through the counselor at school, she met a couple of other girls who dealt with the same, or a similar, problem. There’s a real potential to feel less alone.

Still, she needs to shake off the last few threads of disquiet that remain. The edge of the new ticket is rough against her thumb. Two more weeks. When to break the news? Finally, the queue begins to move when the vicar opens the heavy wooden doors.

In front of her, Hannah and her dad look in the same direction at the same time, exchange sweet, stolen glances. Their hands brush against each other so often that they might as well give up the pretense and just hold hands already. She rolls her eyes when he introduces Hannah as his friend.

“Come on, dad, they’re not stupid.”

Hannah elbows him. “See, Daisy gets it.”

“I just don’t want to talk about it with these people right now,” her dad says. “I want to go in, sit down, and get this over with.”

“What’s there to talk about? I’m your girlfriend, end of.”

“I hate small talk; it would invite small talk, that’s all.”

Hannah’s lips press into a thin line. “Right. Yeah.” Her movements pull in, and she no longer brushes against him.

At last, they file into the church and Daisy ends up sitting between them. Hannah fidgets with her hair and her purse. She stares more at the middle distance, like something’s on her mind. Daisy’s dad, on the other hand: still as a statue. Dark dimples set in his cheeks, and his brow not quite furrowed, but not relaxed either. The tension between them makes Daisy more and more uncomfortable as the sermon drones on. She looks around at the other parishioners, and each of them display their own brand of quiet reflection. She infers everything from remorse to hope to plain old boredom. She regards Hannah and her father once more. Maybe she’s reading too much into it after years of enduring this kind of weird, uneasy silence between her parents. At last she forgets them and focuses instead on the vicar’s words.

As they’re leaving, Hannah walks ahead of them. She smiles and shakes hands with the vicar, who holds her in a conversation a bit longer than the rest to find out more about her. Hannah braces her long fringe from blowing in her face with one hand, and doesn’t open up too much. She then steps off to wander the hillside. Daisy nudges her dad.

“You’ve upset her.”

“What? How?”

“Dad, don’t make me explain it to you.”

He sighs heavily and his gaze slides up and over in defeat, but before he can do anything, they’re caught up with Miller to speak to the vicar. The conversation stirs feelings of pride for her father, and a bit of guilt for avoiding him after he left her mum. Someday she’ll make him tell her the whole story. She absently toys with the ticket in her pocket, then tells him how proud she is of him. His hug is strong and warm and makes her feel like a little girl again. Of course she’ll come back after the summer. Now isn’t a good time to tell him, is it?

Her chance dissipates as he heads off to catch up with Hannah. She stands to the side facing the sea, waiting for them. Her dad cruises straight up to her and rests his hand on her upper arm. Hannah looks up at him, though her head remains tilted downward.

“Ready to go?” she says.

“No. I want to introduce you to everyone properly, is that okay?”

Hannah scoffs, but doesn’t shake off his hand. “Was never not okay with me, but what’s the point now? It’s gonna make an even bigger scene and you’ll hate that more.”

Daisy takes out her mobile to make it not seem like she’s eavesdropping. Their arguments intrigue her. They’re never mean-spirited, but they both can be stubborn and direct. Then they’ll yield, understand, touch. A complementary love language. She read that on an article her mum had left open on the laptop one day after a massive row she had with her new boyfriend.

After settling the dispute, her dad leans close to whisper something in Hannah’s ear. A slow, smile blooms on her face, and she bites her lip. His eyes are tender at her response. He caresses her arm with his palm. Daisy looks away. Talk about making a scene. Finally, her dad guides Hannah back to the graveside path where the Latimers, Millers, and other parishioners still mingle in lively conversation. Daisy doesn’t join them, but watches from a short distance away.

“Thanks for all you’ve done for us. For Trish, for everyone,” Mrs. Latimer says to her father when he approaches. “I was just tellin’ Ellie. We’re glad you came back.”

“Yep. Thank you,” he says with a modest nod. He shifts his stance nervously.  “Erm, I want to introduce you to my, er–wife, Hannah. I mean my girlfriend. Shite.”

Daisy laughs. She covers her mouth when she spots his brief glare at her over his shoulder.

Hannah exchanges greetings with Chloe and her mum, deftly turning the awkward moment into a pleasant conversation. Her father, sheepish, rubs the back of his head as he takes a few steps to reach Daisy.

“Don’t need to worry about small talk when you’ve got her, dad.”

“Aye. She also knows how to escape much better than I ever could.”

“I like her.”

He smiles. “Do you?”

Daisy looks down at the ground as she toes the gravel with her shoe. “Yeah. Um, I need to tell you something.”

He tilts his head. “What is it, Dais?”

“Please let me finish before you say something, okay?”

“Okay…”

“I bought another ticket—”

“Dais—”

At his interruption, Daisy overcomes her meekness and stares him right in the eye. “Dad, listen. I’m going to stay with mum for the summer, that’s all. Maybe not even the whole summer. I just need to get away for a bit, okay? Things were a bit scary for a while and I just, I dunno. Promise I’ll come back.”

He looks taken aback, blinks, but then nods. “…Sure. I mean— are you sure?”

“Yes. Now I’m out 120 quid. I’d like it if you paid me back for the first ticket.”

He chuckles at that, and gazes at her with admiration. “Of course, darling. I’ll pay you back for all of it.”

They hug. Daisy startles when she feels another pair of arms going around them. It’s Hannah, so she relaxes and lays her cheek on her shoulder.

Hannah pats them both on the shoulders. “All right, let’s get home. Sure your dad’s had enough of the PDA for today.”

///

_Tuesday_

Hardy washes plate after plate as Hannah brings them to the counter from the table. Miller, her father and her boys were over for supper, and at last the house is quiet save for the spigot and the clang of dishes.

“Heading over to Chloe’s,” Daisy says, slipping on her shoes by the door.

“Should I give you a ride over?” he asks. “It’s a bit late.”

“No, she drove here. We’re going to the cinema, there’s a film starting at half eleven we want to see, then I’m going to stay at her place.”

“That’s fine, just be safe.”

“Love you, dad.” The front door closes.

Hardy resumes washing dishes, the pile to clean having doubled as if by magic. “God’s sake, Han.” He meant it to sound teasing, but he’s terrible at gauging his own tone. He looks over at her to reassure himself. She grins and does a little dance as she rounds the table. His heart speeds up.

“You said you’d do the dishes.” She sashays over and slips a few utensils into the sink.  

“This is enough plates to serve food to a bloody army.”

“Let’s switch then. I like washing dishes.”

“Now you say.”

She thwaps him on the arse with a fresh dish towel as they change tasks. He grabs her by the waist before she can escape, and brings her close.

“We could also wait till morning,” he says in her ear, voice low.

Hannah winds her arms around his shoulders. “Should I spank you with dish towels more often then?”

“No, it’s just I’m finally alone with you and there’s nothing else on my mind.” He guides her so she’s backed against the counter, then reaches behind her to turn off the spigot revealing the light rhythm and pluck of music that had been drowned out by the rushing water.

“There’s something on your mind.” She looks up at him through her lashes. Her hand slides down his chest, over each button of his shirt.

Hardy holds her gaze, smile inevitable. When she reaches the top of his trousers, he presses her more firmly against the counter with his pelvis. His arms cage her on each side of the counter.

He knows how much she likes it when he takes control, but he’s not necessarily trying to seduce her at the moment. He truly feels like he’s free, and perhaps a bit emboldened by the wine. The stillness that follows every case once made him agitated. He felt useless and bored. But she doesn’t make him feel that way at all. It’s instinctive, how he needs her to overwhelm his senses now that there’s nothing else to distract him.

He drops kisses along her jaw and up to her lips. She moans, arches so their bodies are flush. Her hands tug at him, imploring, but he doesn’t want to be quick and dirty about this.

“Remember the message I sent you?” He kisses her neck as he awaits her reply.

“Can’t think about anything but this right now.” She palms the front of his trousers. Apparently arousal is inevitable, too.

He takes a breath to steady himself. “I mentioned the stars. Me and you spouting nonsense.”

“What are you suggesting? Do you want to fuck me under the stars right now?”

Hardy swallows and has to acclimate himself to what she just said. It’s not unlike her in the slightest, but it never fails to throw him for a loop. He breathes through his nose, steadying the sharp burst of eagerness.

“If I said yes, would you–”

Hannah grabs his hand, and pulls him along with her to the door. “Yes, whatever you’re about to say, yes.”

He laughs, grabs a blanket from the sofa, and they head out into the twilit night.

By the time they reach the top of the grass-carpeted cliff, they’re so knackered that they lay on the blanket to catch their breath first. Hardy folds his arms behind his head and crosses his feet at the ankles. Hannah nestles along his side with her head resting on his shoulder. It’s a clear night. Warm breezes flow in from the sea, carrying the mingled scent of salt and wildflower patches that grow along the nearby hills.

“Daisy’s going away for the summer,” Hardy says. He keeps his eyes trained on the constellations above. Hannah’s body is warm and soft against his, which does nothing to help lower his pulse rate from their trek.

“Sandbrook?”

“Mm. If you’d like to go somewhere, now’s a good time for me to put in a holiday request.”

Hannah slides her hand up his chest. “Not sure. When was the last time you went on a holiday?”

“Every time I think of you.”

Her hand stills. “What?”

“I mean—was that—”

“No, no, it’s…god.” She covers her face with her hand, hiding a huge smile.

Hardy shifts so he can lift up on his elbow and look down at her. She settles on her back, revealing a thin strip of her stomach when her shirt rides up. He strokes the soft skin there lightly with his thumb.

“Are you comfortable?” he says, studying her expression. It’s hard to see too clearly when the moon is new, but at least the stars shine brighter.

“As long as I don’t think about the bugs that might be crawling on me.”

“We can go back.”

“No. I’ve never done this before.”

He tilts his head as his stomach flutters. “Me neither.” It’s so far out of his comfort zone that he’d be perfectly fine if she wanted to return home. But her wide, beseeching eyes and her parted lips give him courage.

She reaches up to touch his face. “What if we get caught?”

“Something tells me that’s why you agreed to this in the first place. Stars be damned, aye?”

The wind carries her laughter over the cliff, so he leans in to capture her mouth in a kiss. They don’t have to decide right now where they’ll go on holiday, but they will go on one. As many as she wants. Her arms enfold him. Her hair tickles his nose when he kisses her behind the ear. She moves under him like waves, and he’s never been more certain that the worst is over. Ahead, the path might not be clear, but this woman and her love will be with him. 

_the end_


End file.
